


Everything is Alright

by torrentialTriages



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Sarge's Thirst for Cyanicide is surprisingly minimal, i just made one up it's cyanicide you're welcome, what do you mean there's no real word for 'killing blues'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrentialTriages/pseuds/torrentialTriages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flowers takes Sarge on a rock climbing trip while in Blood Gulch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything is Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Toadflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toadflame/pseuds/Toadflame) in the [RvB_Fic_War](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/RvB_Fic_War) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Nothing like months of fighting together to bring a team together. You're working so well, you're like a well-oiled machine!
> 
> What? Don't look at me like that - I was here too! For part of it. Kind of. Listen, I am the commanding officer here...
> 
> **Prompt:** Write a fic where some unlikely teammates come together...in any way.
> 
> very brief insinuation of flyoming. the briefest

"Sarge."

"Don't you 'Sarge' me, you dirty Blue," grunts Sarge, grasping the next rockhold and straining to pull himself up bodily to where Captain Flowers stands on a rock ledge approximately seven feet above him. "Once I get up there I'll beat you into the dirt and serve you up to your own men for dinner!"

Flowers chuckles. "A bold culinary endeavour, Sarge. I didn't know you were fond of cooking."

"I'm not," Sarge retorts. "But sometimes, the idea of having a Blue as dinner just makes me want to put on an apron and get to mashin'!"

"I can recommend some spices that would go well with my flesh." Flowers giggles a little at the idea.

"Can it! Stop distracting me, dagnabbit!" Sarge hauls himself up by the arms and manages to find purchase on a small outcrop by his foot. "I swear, when I get up there..."

"You're doing very well," Flowers reassures him, peering over the ledge. Flowers' hair is not pinned up, as both leaders had set out rock climbing that morning (or night, it was always hard to tell in Blood Gulch) without armor, braid falling straight over the ledge like a slim rope. "Only six feet to go."

Sarge grunts in reply. The only sound for a while is the scuffing of his boots, the crumbling of the rock face under the pressure he exerts, and his various effort noises as he forces his way up the cliff.

"Sarge," comes Flowers' amused voice, after a while. "Look down. But be careful not to lose your grip..."

Sarge grits his teeth, tightens his grip, and looks down.

"Holy wunderbar!"

"I know, right?"

Sarge makes a frantic scramble for the ledge where Flowers sits, collapsing on his stomach next to the Blue Team leader and wiggling his way fully onto the ledge before rolling over. "What in sam hell was _that_ for?"

"I like to come up here every once in a while," Flowers says beside him, gazing out at the scenery below them. Blood Gulch was still a box canyon, cliffs on all sides, but the scale of the bases from the cliff the two were sitting on did make it seem a lot more infinite. "Makes me and my worries feel... smaller. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Sure makes me feel like a bug," grumbles Sarge, struggling to sit up on the narrow dusty surface. "Why'd you bring me up here, anyway, and not one of your own men?"

There is a moment of silence. Flowers replies, a little quieter, thoughtfully, "I guess I wanted to share this with someone who could relate, when you just need to think about things you've done, people you've met, and whatever needs to come next for them." Sarge notices Flowers' rigid back and square shoulders, as if Flowers is waiting for him to attack him on the topic.

Sarge's fingers brush over a faintly-carved _Reginald_ in the rock, next to Flowers' knee. He decides not to say anything about it, and scratches at the back of his neck and grunts.

"I suppose you're right, it's a calm little place," he mutters gruffly, and Flowers' back relaxes.


End file.
